


The Gin Palace

by Alexandria (heartfullofelves)



Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crime, F/F, Femslash February, Inspired by Novel, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:13:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10050107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/pseuds/Alexandria
Summary: A beautiful stranger walks into Astrid’s life and turns it upside down.





	

Astrid Schaeffer’s mother had always encouraged her to dream big, so she did. Her dream was to be an airship pilot. Her goal to achieve this dream was to go to flight school in Italy. To make this happen, her current course of action was to work at her local gin palace until she had saved enough money for flight school.

Astrid was drying a glass when someone approached her at the bar. Startled, she had not noticed the red-headed woman enter the room, but she was struck by her appearance: this woman was without a doubt the most beautiful Astrid had ever seen, but as she studied her face she thought this was also the saddest woman she had ever seen. There was something missing in those blue eyes – this woman had lost something. Or perhaps she had not found it in the first place.

“A gin and tonic, please.” The voice was clear and precise, but lacked emotion.

Astrid smiled and put down the glass she had just finished drying. “Certainly. Can I get you anything else?”

“No… Thank you.”

The thanks seemed to be an afterthought; perhaps the woman had only just noticed that the barmaid, Astrid, was a human and therefore deserved courtesy. Perhaps the woman was used to giving orders to synths. One did not need to thank synths.

Astrid uncapped a bottle of gin and poured some in the bottom of the glass before mixing in the tonic water. “Ice?” she asked.

“No.”

Astrid placed the drink on the counter and took the money the patron offered. “Enjoy,” she said with a smile the woman did not return.

She tried not to stare at the woman as she took her drink to a table in the corner of the room and sat with her back to the rest of the customers, as if hiding from them. Astrid shook her head and picked up the next glass to dry.

The woman with red hair was still sitting there at closing time, and Astrid had to approach her at her table and ask her to leave. The woman apologised and went, leaving behind a full glass. Astrid frowned as she picked up the glass and took it to the counter.

* * *

The next night, the woman came again. This time, she asked for a beer, and as Astrid worked the beer pump she wondered if she would drink it this time.

Just before closing, Astrid walked over to the woman’s table, but instead of asking her to leave, asked if she was well.

The woman blinked. “Why do you ask?” Her eyes rested just above Astrid’s forehead.

“Because you’ve come here two nights in a row, and not touched your drink either time,” explained Astrid, watching the woman for a reaction.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

It was a dismissal, but Astrid ignored it. “I’m Astrid. What’s your name?”

A pause. “Niska.”

Astrid smiled. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Niska.” She bobbed her head. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No. But I live here now.”

Astrid was not stupid, she had been observing Niska for two nights, and now she took the risk. “What are you running from?”

Niska stiffened. “I am not at liberty to say.”

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to probe.”

“Yes, you did.”

Astrid sighed. “You’re a difficult person, aren’t you?”

“And you’re a forward one.”

 “You’re very mysterious,” replied Astrid, sitting at the table, opposite Niska. “I can’t help being curious about you.”

“I’m dangerous to be around,” warned Niska, but at least she was looking Astrid in the eye now.

“I like danger.” Astrid untied her apron strings, revealing her gold and brown corset and tan skirt. “It thrills me.”

“I tried to warn you,” said Niska, but Astrid was not to be swayed. Her mother had told her to dream big, but she had also taught her not to let anyone tell her what to do.

* * *

Niska closed the door with a click and turned to Astrid, who rushed towards her and kissed her hard. Within seconds, they had torn each other’s skirts off. Now, Astrid ran her hands down Niska’s black-corseted torso, still with her tongue in Niska’s mouth. Niska broke the kiss and spun Astrid around in order to untie her corset, throwing it on top of their skirts. They removed boots, stockings, and drawers, until Astrid was bare and Niska only in her corset, an arrangement they had found over the past six weeks that they both preferred.

They came together on Niska’s chaise longue, their passion just as strong as it had been when they first met, and afterwards Astrid collapsed on top of Niska in a sweaty heap.

When she could move, she rolled onto her side and looked into Niska’s eyes. Niska smiled. Astrid took Niska’s hand and kissed it, returning her lover’s gentle smile. Niska’s hand crept up Astrid’s thigh, ready to initiate a second, slower round, when there was a knock at the door.

Astrid groaned as Niska got off the chaise longue and pulled on her skirt before going to the door. Niska lived in the upstairs of her widower landlord’s home, so it could only be him. Astrid sat up on the old-fashioned sofa to watch the interaction, leaning her arm on the armrest, her naked feet dangling the slightest bit off the end.

“What do you want?” Niska’s voice was cold.

“Miss Elster,” said the landlord, “you owe two weeks’ rent.”

“I told you, I will pay it as soon as I can.”

Astrid’s eyes narrowed; Niska had not informed her of any financial difficulties.

“You said that last week, and yet I haven’t seen a single effort to get the money.”

“Mr Smyth,” replied Niska, and Astrid could see in her posture how she was practising great self-control, “I will get the money for you as soon as possible.”

He took a step closer so that he was almost through the door. He frowned, then sniffed. “What have you been doing in here? It smells like-” Then he spied Astrid on the chaise longue, and reddened. “I will not have this kind of behaviour in my house!” he yelled, and Niska stepped back, ready to close the door. “I did not allow you to live under my roof so that you could fornicate with whoever you please!”

While Niska tried to placate him, Astrid grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around herself, tying a knot so it would stay up. She padded over to the door.

“Get out at once; you’re no longer welcome here!” He pointed at Niska. “And as for you…” he began, looking at Astrid.

She raised her eyebrows. “As for me, what?”

His eyes bulged. “You… you harlot!” He reached out for her. “I bet you’re the one who seduced her into your wicked ways-”

Niska bashed his head with a nearby ashtray and he fell forwards inside the door.

Astrid knelt and checked his pulse with shaking hands, turning her head from the blood. She looked up at Niska, who stood over them with the ashtray in her hand. “You killed him!” she cried. “Have you lost your mind?”

Niska’s gaze chilled Astrid. “It could be argued.”

“Did you mean to kill him?” Astrid’s eyes were wide and her heart raced, pumping cold blood through her body.

“I’m… not sure.”

“Oh my god,” moaned Astrid, slumping against the wall. She hid her head in her hands. “I can’t look.”

“We need to move the body.”

Astrid looked up. “What?”

“To make it look like an accident. We need to move him.”

“Where?”

“The lane outside. It will look like he tripped and fell.”

“Please tell me you didn’t plan this,” Astrid begged, cradling her knees.

“Are you calling me a murderer?” Niska’s eyes flashed with hurt.

“I don’t know. _Are_ you a murderer?” Astrid’s eyes welled up as she looked at her lover, now a stranger. She did not know this Niska. Nor did she want to.

“Murderer,” Niska mused, staring at the bloody ashtray. “What does that even mean?”

“Niska!”

Niska’s eyes snapped to Astrid’s. “We must carry him outside. Hurry.”

“Oh, god,” moaned Astrid, getting to her feet.

Mr Smyth was heavy, but they managed to drag him downstairs and out the back door. Mud oozed between Astrid’s toes as they carried him across the garden and out the gate, into the lane. They laid him face down on the pavement and used what little moonlight there was to arrange his limbs and clothes to look as if he had tripped.

“What about his hat?” asked Astrid, lips trembling.

“He wasn’t wearing one.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

Astrid jumped at the sharp tone.

“I’m sorry.” Niska lowered her voice. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

Astrid held the sheet tighter around herself. “Let’s just get inside.”

Niska nodded, and led the way.

Once inside, Astrid sat on the chaise longue, holding the blood-specked sheet up to her chin as Niska made her a cup of tea. Her stomach churned, and she did not know if she felt hot or cold. All she knew was that she felt sick, and that she did not think she would be seeing Niska again after tonight.

Niska handed her the hot cup of tea, which she took with shaky hands, avoiding Niska’s gaze. Niska fetched a cloth and a pail of water and began scrubbing the blood from the area around the door, then worked her way backwards down the stairs until she had cleaned up the trail they had left when they carried the body out of the house. Astrid had not moved when she returned; she was frozen in place. Before tonight, she had known the other patrons at the gin palace better than she had known Niska. Now, she knew both too much and not enough about her mysterious lover.

Niska broke the tense silence. “We need to destroy that sheet.”

Astrid looked up. “What?”

“It’s covered in blood. Get dressed and we’ll put it on the fire downstairs.”

Astrid took a sip of tea, then put it to the side and dressed herself. She was still too rattled to tie her corset, so Niska had to come over and help. Niska, who had carried Mr Smyth’s feet, had only got blood on her hands, corset, and boots, which she must have wiped clean with a cloth already. Astrid wiped her own boots before tying the laces and joining Niska by the fireplace downstairs. Niska stoked the fire and threw the ruined sheet into the flames.

“What about the ashtray?” asked Astrid, staring at the sheet as it blackened.

“I’ll put it on the fire, too.” Niska was also watching the fire.

“Are you stupid? It won’t burn!” Astrid protested. “We need to get rid of it; it’s a murder weapon.”

“If the police search the house, they won’t look in the fireplace,” reasoned Niska.

“How can you be so sure?” Astrid put her hands on her hips.

“Just trust me. Please.” Niska turned to face her.

Astrid looked in those serious blue eyes and nodded. “As long as you’re sure.”

“I don’t want to be caught any more than you do,” said Niska, taking her hand.

Astrid tried not to flinch at the touch, but she did not succeed. “Why did you kill him?”

“I was defending us. I didn’t want him touching you.” Niska let go of Astrid’s hand.

“Why?” Astrid folded her arms.

Niska did not respond for a moment. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Yes,” Astrid all but spat. “I don’t know anything about you, Niska, especially not your reasons for committing _murder_.”

Niska turned away.

“I wanted to know you, Niska, but you’re too secretive. And now…” Astrid swept her arm to signal the mess they were in. “I’m going to go,” she said at last.

“Please stay,” said Niska, almost inaudible.

Astrid shook her head. “Come and find me when you’re ready to be open with me.”

She walked out into the frosty night and walked down the city street, rubbing her arms. After a block, she was too cold and too scared to go much further, so she ended up hailing a cab to take her home. She did not sleep well that night.

* * *

Almost a week later, she was at work one evening when two police officers approached the bar.

“May I help you?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Are you Miss Astrid Schaeffer?” asked the taller officer.

“Yes.”

“Are you familiar with a Miss Niska Elster?”

Astrid’s heart raced. “I know her, yes.”

“We’re investigating a possible murder that happened last week, and are questioning Miss Elster. It would be most helpful if you could help us with our enquiries. Are you able to accompany us to the station now so we can talk?”

Astrid looked around the gin palace. “I beg your pardon, but I’m the only staff on tonight; I can’t leave my post. Is it very urgent?”

“Perhaps not, but we would like to talk to you as soon as possible,” said the shorter man, looking up from his notepad.

“We could talk here,” suggested Astrid. “You look like you could use a drink.”

The officers exchanged glances. “It’s not protocol…”

“Oh, go on,” Astrid grinned. “It’s Friday night.”

“Do you promise to answer all our questions truthfully?”

“Of course,” she said, but behind her back she crossed her fingers. “What can I get for you?”

The officers left less than an hour later, drunk and without any information that might lead them to accuse Niska. If asked, Astrid might say she did not want to see someone she knew hanged, but that was far from the whole truth.

* * *

Another week later, Astrid learnt from the papers that a violent young man was the prime suspect in the murder of Mr Smyth. When she got home from work that night, something was not quite right, something felt off. She tiptoed into the living area, and froze when she saw Niska on her sofa.

“Hello.” Niska offered a shy smile.

Astrid couldn’t fight the grin that crossed her lips. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to tell you everything. And then I’m going to ask you for help.”

“Everything?” Astrid’s eyes widened.

Niska hesitated for a moment, then nodded once. “Yes. If you’re willing to hear it, that is. I know how you helped me with the police.”

“Give me a reason to be glad I did.”

Astrid joined Niska on the sofa and listened. When Niska told her she was a synth, Astrid looked into Niska’s eyes and asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…”

“The truth,” Astrid pushed.

“I didn’t want you to stop liking me.”

Astrid exhaled. “I don’t judge you for being a synth, Niska. I do judge you for not being honest.”

“You can see _why_ ,” said Niska, sitting up straight with her hands on her thighs. Astrid had thought her perfect posture was due to formal training, but now she knew the truth.

“No. I have always been honest with you. _Always_. All I wanted was for you to open up to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Astrid blinked, then nodded. “Thank you. Now what’s the rest of the story? Synths can’t feel, they can’t think like humans. Why are you different?”

Astrid found herself holding Niska’s hand as Niska told her about her creation, her family, and her abuse, and listened without judgement. Niska was concise, but the story was long, and Astrid was yawning by the end.

“Do you want to stay the night?” she asked.

“Yes.” Niska’s smile was grateful.

“Come on.” Astrid stood and held out her hand to Niska. “You can tell me what happened with your landlord in bed.”

* * *

Astrid lay with her arm draped over Niska’s hip, her trust restored now that Niska had told her everything about her dealings with Mr Smyth, and how he had used her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, caressing the clothed hip beneath her hand. “It still doesn’t justify murder, but I can understand now why you did it.”

“Sometimes things get too much for anyone,” replied Niska, lying still and watching Astrid’s response.

“I know.” Astrid poked Niska’s hip. “Now why do you need my help? I thought the police had found another suspect.”

“They have,” said Niska. “A boy who apparently had a fight with Mr Smyth in the past. He doesn’t have an alibi.”

“But they don’t suspect you, so that’s good,” Astrid pointed out.

Niska stared at her. “I can’t let them hang someone who’s innocent! Not when I’m guilty, Astrid.”

Astrid closed her eyes and smiled. “You have a moral code. Like a human.”

“I killed someone because I was scared and angry. It’s not right that someone else get punished instead of me.”

“What are you going to do?” Astrid brushed her fingers down Niska’s arm.

“I’m going to the trial tomorrow,” said Niska, “and if they find him guilty, I’ll confess.”

“You seem very determined. It could mean your death.”

“I’m still working out my moral code. But I’ve learnt many things in the past two weeks – and the past two months,” she added.

Astrid opened one eye. “How’s that?”

Niska hesitated. “I’ve… begun to see what the strongest emotions are. What influences our decisions. And what makes a decision ethical or not. You’ve helped me with that.”

“That’s flattering, but where do I come into it?”

“Will you come with me to court tomorrow?” asked Niska. It did not answer this question, but an earlier question of Astrid’s, the one about why Niska needed her. “I would like your support.”

“Of course.” Astrid took Niska’s hand and pressed a light kiss on the knuckles. “You have it.”

“Thank you,” whispered Niska.

* * *

Outside the courthouse the next morning, Astrid wondered how she had completely missed that Niska was not human: she did not tremble, her pulse did not race, and her breathing did not quicken. Instead, Niska stood with a straight back and her hands clasped in front of her, the image of an educated woman. Astrid saw, however, the way Niska’s eyes flicked from place to place, unable to concentrate in one spot for too long. This and that she spoke even less than usual alerted Astrid to the fact that Niska was nervous.

They were some of the first people inside the courtroom, giving them a choice of seats. Niska led Astrid to the front row, where they nodded polite greetings to Mr Smyth’s grieving family.

“How are you feeling?” asked Astrid, retying the ribbon on her navy-blue bonnet.

“I’m fine,” answered Niska, but her eyes were glued to the front of the room.

“Just remember that I’m here for you.”

Niska nodded.

“But please don’t do anything stupid.”

Niska smirked. “I don’t do stupid things.”

“Of course not.” Astrid rolled her eyes. “That’s not how we got here in the first place.”

“I had my reasons.”

“It was still stupid.”

Niska turned to look at Astrid. “Last night you were on my side.”

“I still am,” said Astrid, putting her hand on Niska’s shoulder. “I care about you and I’m here to support you. But you did get yourself and an innocent man in hot water, which you could have avoided. I’m just trying to get you to reflect on your actions.”

“I’ve been self-reflecting for the past two weeks, don’t worry about that.”

“Good.” Astrid kissed Niska’s cheek, not caring that the courtroom had filled and the judge and jury had entered. “Now concentrate on not doing anything else stupid.”

“Like what?”

“I think it’s noble that you’re willing to confess to save an innocent. But only do it if they find him guilty.”

“Astrid…”

“Promise me.” Astrid’s voice was firm, as was her gaze.

“I promise.”

Then, the judge asked for silence and made his opening remarks. The trial had begun.

Astrid found it hard to concentrate with her heart pounding in her chest. Lawyers spoke, the accused was cross-examined, the evidence heard, but most of what was said went in one ear and out the other, and she spent the trial clutching Niska’s hand. She was meant to be Niska’s support person, but they were really supporting each other.

At last, the judge announced that they would take a break, after which they would hear the jury’s verdict. Niska ran out of the courtroom, and Astrid followed her into the ladies’ cloakroom.

“Niska?” she called, peering around the tiny room that was crowded with women’s cloaks.

“They can’t find him guilty,” said Niska. “They can’t.”

Astrid drew her into an embrace. “It will be all right, Niska.” She hoped the words sounded reassuring, for she was not confident in them herself. “It’ll be all right.”

* * *

When the judge asked the jury for their verdict, Astrid and Niska clutched each other’s hands so hard it hurt. Astrid felt hot all over, and swallowed down her urge to vomit. She dabbed her forehead with her handkerchief.

“We find the accused not guilty.” They had not the evidence to find him otherwise.

Astrid exhaled a loud breath. She turned to Niska and cupped her cheek. “It’s all right,” she said. “You heard them, there wasn’t any convincing evidence.”

Niska nodded. “Let’s go.”

They filed out of the courtroom, bumping shoulders with the disappointed public who had come to see the spectacle of a youth condemned to death for a murder, and reached the street outside. They pushed past the press waiting outside the courthouse, and walked along until they were halfway across a bridge that arched over the river. Here Niska stopped, leaning against the railings and watching the dark water below.

“What happens now?” asked Astrid, standing next to her.

“I want to live,” said Niska, looking out at the landscape before them. “What about you?”

“I’ve finally saved up enough for flight school,” admitted Astrid with a smile. “You could come with me to Italy.”

Niska met Astrid’s gaze. “I’d like that,” she said.

“Good,” replied Astrid, brown eyes sparkling.

“And not just because I want to see you in a pilot uniform.”

Astrid chuckled, and wrapped an arm around Niska’s waist. Everything was all right, and now she could include Niska in her dreams of the future. They were beautiful dreams which would soon become wonderful realities. She could not ask for anything more.

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters.


End file.
